


"Netflix Sends Message To Check If Area Man Okay After Watching Entire Season Of ‘Sons Of Anarchy’ In Single Sitting"

by orange_yarn



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pietro Maximoff Lives, netflix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_yarn/pseuds/orange_yarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“--The kids have their own login,” you cut in, “for exactly this reason. And don’t try and cover for him, you know he did this.” If that last part sounded a little accusatory, well, that’s probably because it was. According to the <i>Continue Watching for Clint</i> tab, somebody’s been watching <i>Marvel’s Avengers Assemble</i>, and it sure wasn’t you.</p><p>“I know.” Wanda’s sigh crackles through the speaker. “Half the night he keeps me awake, watching that show.”</p><p>“Doesn’t he have his own room?” you ask, scrolling through your new suggestions. <i>Penguins of Madagascar</i>, <i>The Croods</i>, like, four different <i>Pokemons</i>. </p><p>“I have better Wi-Fi,” Wanda deadpans, and you rub at your temples.</p><p>(5 times Pietro ruined Clint's life, and also his Netflix recommendations. 2nd Person, Clint's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Ha, so. I was inspired by [this post](http://foxyfussings.tumblr.com/post/118206729526/mcu-fans-do-yourself-a-favor) on tumblr, which pointed out that Disney XD's Avengers Assemble cartoon could easily be an actual TV show within the MCU. It got me thinking about how Clint's kids would probably love the show. And then, because I vehemently deny certain events from the end of AoU, I wrote a fic where Pietro Maximoff binge watches it on Netflix.
> 
> So, this is a weird mix of MCU canon and also I decided some events from the Avenger's Assemble cartoon could be real, too. Basically I did whatever I wanted, ha. This is not as short as it was supposed to be. It's mostly silly and also unbetaed, but I had fun. 
> 
> The title is a headline from The Onion. And as always, sorry about the second person, Homestuck ruined me.

**one**

 

-+-

 

The whole mess starts on a Saturday morning. It’s well after nine by the time you wake up. Laura’s still sound asleep beside you, the sun is filtering in through the blinds, and down the hall your kids are--

\--actually, you have no idea what the kids are up to. You pop in your hearing aids, and then double check the batteries, but nope. It is 9:36 in the a.m., and the house is utterly silent. By now the kids should be wide awake, with half their toys already strewn around the house. Lila should have climbed into bed between the two of you, snuggled up for two minutes and then demanded pancakes, and Cooper should have already asked to head out on his bike. Instead, here you are, sleeping in a full two hours later than you normally get to. You ought to enjoy it, but warning bells are going off in your head, because something is up.

You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, to let Laura sleep, and make your way down the hall. Not only are Cooper and Lila’s rooms empty, but the Maximoffs aren’t in the spare room, either. You brought the twins home with you after Pietro got shot about a billion times saving your skin in Sokovia, and you haven't had a reason to regret it yet.

Wanda’s an early riser, usually even up before your kids, but she keeps to herself in the mornings, and likes to take a coffee and sit out on the front porch. Pietro, though, is never up before noon. At first you thought it was because he was healing -- dying took a lot out of a guy, you figured -- but over the past few weeks everything’s improved, except his sleeping habits. The fact that he’s awake this early tells you that something is definitely going on, and it’s safe to say that it’s probably his fault.

At the top of the stairs you can hear the TV on in the living room, turned down low, and by the time you make it to the bottom step you can see them. They’re all still in their pajamas, piled up on the couch -- Wanda and Pietro sitting together in the middle, with Cooper and Lila on either side, and even Lucky has managed to sprawl himself across everyone’s laps. Only the dog has the decency to look up when you walk into the room, the rest of them are too busy watching --

“Oh, no.” You say, shaking your head in disbelief as horror blooms, cold and clear, in the pit of your stomach. Now the kids look up, all four of them, as the commercials roll and the announcer promises another episode of _Marvel’s Avengers Assemble_ on Disney XD, coming up next. “I thought I banned this show,” you mutter, casting about for the remote. Lila’s got it, clutched between her little hands, and you know you’re not getting it back any time soon. “I thought I blocked this whole channel.”

“Mom unbanned it,” Cooper explains, and you sigh. “And the password was my birthday.”

You should probably be more worried that your son is apparently a hacker now, but you file that away for later. Right now, you have to deal with more pressing matters, like the blatant lies mainstream media is feeding your children, and also the smug grin on Pietro’s face.

“This show is garbage,” you announce to the room at large. It's not actually that bad, you just don't like that your character has been reduced to comic relief, arguing with the Hulk about food twice an episode. Also, somehow Attuma is even more annoying on the show than he is in real life. You're not sure how they managed that. “It is unrealistic and everyone is out of character.” On the screen, the television plays the same Chuck ‘E Cheese commercial twice in a row. Nobody seems to notice.

“I like it,” Wanda says, as Cooper turns back around and nestles a little closer into her side. “It is very funny. I think Sam is my favorite,” she adds, because of course he is. You don’t even think she’s met the real guy yet. She’ll probably be disappointed.

“He’s Coop’s favorite, too,” Lila chimes in, and she’s still got a death grip on the remote. If you’re lucky, she’ll slip up, and you can end this whole fiasco. You’re not overly optimistic. “But I like the Hulk.”

“Wait, I’m not even your favorite?” you demand, scanning the completely guilt-less faces of your children. “I’m your father!”

“You are my favorite,” Pietro offers, tipping his head over the back of the couch to smirk up at you. “The purple, it looks good on you.”

“Nobody asked your opinion, but, thank you,” you say, nodding once. “I appreciate that.”

“Tell me though,” Pietro continues, and you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Were you really in a Circus of Crime?”

“Turn this off,” you order, because this has obviously gone way too far. The kids pout, but nobody moves. You try and remember a time when your kids ever listened to you, and come up blank. You wish you’d woken Laura up after all. “I mean it,” you add, going for vaguely threatening but still getting nothing.

“But, it’s the one where Aunt Nat gets turned into a vampire,” Cooper says, and you stop wondering which batteries the universal remote takes, your eyes darting to the TV, just as the Marvel logo flickers across the screen.

“I take it back,” you say, rounding the edge of the couch. “Scoot over.” You drop in beside Pietro. He has to shuffle into Wanda’s space, and Lila abandons him to clamber over to you, so he ends up with a lapful of dog instead. It’s very satisfying.  “This the best one. Natasha _hates_ it. Did she run into the mirror yet?”

You sit through three entire episodes before Laura comes downstairs and laughs at you, and Lila finally starts asking for pancakes.

 

-+-

 

 


	2. two

**two**

 

-+-

 

You learned a while back that if you have a problem with Pietro, you’re better off going straight to Wanda. And boy oh boy, do you have a problem with him.

“It’s only $7.99 a month,” you’re explaining. You hadn’t followed the twins back to the east coast, and the New Avengers facility, opting instead to stay home with Laura and Cooper and Lila, and, as of three weeks ago, baby Nate. Wanda Skypes you every week, like clockwork, but you were too worked up to wait for Sunday night. “Seriously, eight bucks a month. They are paying you guys, right?”

The thing is, you don’t actually care that Pietro’s using your Netflix account. You’re paying for it regardless, so it’s not a big deal. Except tonight when you’d logged on, you realized what had been happening.

You were up with Nate anyway, and hoping to kick off an epic X-Files rewatch before the new season in January. Your homepage should have been filled with categories like, _Crime Action & Adventure_, or, _Dark Comedies_ , or even, _Girl Power Animation._ You’re not ashamed to admit how many times you’ve seen _Mulan_.

Instead, you found yourself starting a screen full of _Digimon_ and _The Boxtrolls_. You didn’t even stop to care about timezones, you just logged on to Skype and called up Wanda in a haze of righteous indignation.

“You have children,” Wanda says, like she’s reminding you. Your youngest is in the crook of your arm, gumming his fist and blinking up at you, luckily too young to judge you for flipping out over Netflix recommendations.  “Maybe Cooper or Lila--”

“--The kids have their own login,” you cut in, “for exactly this reason. And don’t try and cover for him, you know he did this.” If that last part sounded a little accusatory, well, that’s probably because it was. According to the _Continue Watching for Clint tab_ , somebody’s been watching _Marvel’s Avengers Assemble_ , and it sure wasn’t you.

“I know.” Wanda’s sigh crackles through the speaker. “Half the night he keeps me awake, watching that show.”

“Doesn’t he have his own room?” you ask, scrolling through your new suggestions. _Penguins of Madagascar, The Croods_ , like, four different _Pokemons_.

“I have better Wi-Fi,” Wanda deadpans, and you rub at your temples. You know she loves her brother -- loves him so much she brought him back from the dead, even -- but jeez, it must be exhausting being his twin. It was exhausting having him in your house for three weeks. You’re still exhausted now, with him halfway across the country and your Netflix recommendations full of _Animation for Ages 5 to 7_.

“Well, he’s gotta be done by now,” you figure. “There can’t be that many episodes.” You could click the link yourself and find out, but enough damage has been done already.

“There are twenty-six,” Wanda says, and you can tell from her voice that she hates that she knows that. “He has seen them at least three times each.”

“You’re joking.”

“If only.” Another sigh. “He is waiting for the second season. And he wants to meet Rocket Raccoon.”

“Those two deserve each other,” you mutter. If you had your way, you’d lock the Maximoff kid and the gun-toting rodent in a closet and take bets on who came out alive. Your money’s on the raccoon.

“Is that Barton?” Pietro’s voice comes through the speaker, and Wanda has half a second to look at someone out of the picture before her brother edges her out. “Barton!” Pietro crows, and you already know he’s up to something. He’s always up to something.  “Who is your ‘satellite television provider?’”

“Why are you asking me that?” you demand, squinting at the screen, but Pietro’s expression is pixelated and unreadable, and anyway, he’s peering down at an iPad in his lap.

“No reason, just tell me who it is,” Pietro says, sounding evasive and entirely too cheerful. The kid’s never been much of a liar. “I also need to know your username and password.”

“Why, what are you--?” Wanda’s bullied her way back into the frame, prodding her brother with her elbow until he’s given back at least half of her chair. “What is he doing?”

Wanda murmurs something in Sokovian, poking at her brother’s iPad, and he chatters back. You roll your eyes and tap your foot for a good forty-five seconds while they bicker, before Pietro finally admits, in English, “The new episodes are posted only on the Disney app, but it is asking me to log on first. Do you have Dish Network?”

“I’m hanging up,” you inform them both, clicking to close out the window. The screen goes dark, and Nate starts to whimper, because of course.

Thirty seconds later, Pietro texts you a frowny face emoji. You’re tired and entirely too sentimental, and anyway there’s not a middle finger emoji, so you text him back with your DirecTV username and password.

Five minutes after that you send him the info for his very own Netflix Kids login under your account, and cross your fingers that he never discovers anime.

 

  
-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I will post all fives parts this weekend or die trying. I swear it.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got really long, and also has some...feelings? I don't even know, I'm just having fun.

**three**

 

-+-

 

You’re not retired, not technically. You guess you’d say you’re on reserve -- you’re too old and tired to party it up with Cap and Natasha’s batch of newbies, and you’d much rather be at home with your family, anyway. But, you know better than most people how badly things can turn out, and how quickly, so you keep your gear ready, just in case.

The first call comes five months after Ultron. Your heard that Tony’s sitting this one out, and Bruce is still MIA, and who even knows with Thor anymore, but you don’t hesitate. Natasha swings by and picks you up on the way to California, and you hang in the back of the crowd and listen in as Steve briefs the team on the mission.

Maybe it’s because you’re only a few months out from Sokovia, or because the Doombots buzzing around the city are just a little too familiar, but you’re on edge from the moment the jet touches down. When Pietro stops responding on the comms, the bottom falls out of your stomach.

“He’s not hurt.” Wanda’s voice is in your ear, sounding certain. You’re gonna trust her on that one, sure, because she would know, but still. Last time you fought a bunch of robots the kid actually died, so you can’t help but worry. It’s infuriating.

“We’re almost done here,” Steve says, and you can hear the crunch of his shield against a Doombot. “Not many left now.” It’s true, the street you’re on is just about empty, there’s not much left to deal with but a couple of stragglers, and a whole lot of cleanup.

“You are not far from him,” Wanda adds. She’s with Steve, halfway across the city, but you imagine her eyes glowing red, hexes spiraling from her fingertips. “Clint, can you--”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, firing an arrow through the eye of an approaching Doombot. It crumples to the ground and sparks pitifully. “I’ll get him.”

She’s right, he’s not far. A block away you find a pile of robot parts, crackling and fizzing, and you recognize Pietro’s handiwork. They’re scattered outside an evacuated souvenir shop. The door’s been blown clean off, but you can hear someone rustling around inside.

You keep your bow at the ready as you slip through the doorway, scanning the corners. “Quicksilver?” you hiss into the darkened room, and wow, that’s a stupid codename, but that’s irrelevant. “Maximoff? You in here?”

There’s a whoosh and blur, and Pietro appears out of nowhere, skidding to a halt right in front of you. He looks -- he looks _fine_ , there’s not even a scratch on him. What a prick.

“There you are,” he says, like you’re the one that went AWOL in the middle of a mission. He’s got something in his hand, but you’re too worked up to care what it is.

“Are you kidding?” you ask, and he blinks, probably because you sound angry. You are angry. “We were calling you. Why didn’t you answer?”

“What?” Pietro brings one hand up to his ear, to check his comm, and comes away empty handed. “I keep losing them,” he admits with a shrug. “What did I miss?”

“How do you lose them?” You ignore his question, waving your hands inarticulately. “Are you taking them out?” Pietro only shrugs again, not looking half as ashamed as you think he should feel, so you try another tactic. “Your sister was worried.”

“Wanda knows I am fine,” Pietro counters, sounding flippant. “She’s in my head.” A grin spreads across his features, slow and predatory. “ _You_ were worried about me.”

“Shut up, no I wasn’t.” You scowl, and try to change the subject. “What’s in your hand?” You’re thinking maybe his missing comm, but no, it’s worse. His smile shifts to something genuine, and he opens his fist to show you the figurine in his hands -- a tiny glass ballerina.

Oh. Oh no. You already know what he’s about to say. _Hulk’s Day Out_ is Lila’s favorite episode.

“For Dr. Banner,” Pietro explains, and now he has the decency to sound...less cocky, at least. “If he comes back.”

“Okay, so, that is disgustingly adorable,” you admit, pointing at the figurine. “But, you do realize that show is fake, right? It’s not real.” Pietro closes his hand around the ballerina, but doesn’t say anything. “Please tell me you understand that. Bruce doesn’t actually collect tiny figurines or hang out in pocket dimensions.”

“Maybe he has never told you,” Pietro says, almost defensive, and this is way worse than you thought it was. There’s half a Doombot arm lying discarded on the floor. If you’re quick, you could probably grab it and bash your own head in before Pietro could stop you. You would do literally anything not to be having this conversation right now.

“But he told the Disney Channel, so they could put it in their cartoon?” you ask, going for gentle but coming across exasperated.

Pietro rolls his eyes. “Of course, the show is not real,” he says, and it’s mostly convincing. “I just -- maybe he would like it. If he comes back,” he repeats, and yeah. You know both the Maximoffs are pretty messed up over their involvement in the Ultron debacle, so no surprise he’s got issues about what happened with Bruce. Anyway, it’s not the time or place to fight over this.

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh. “Whatever. Do what you want, kid.” Pietro gives the barest of nods, and rushes out of the room in a blur before you can finish shouting, “Just stop turning off your comm!” You’re gonna have to have a conversation, with the both of them, about the guilt thing -- and apparently about _stealing_ , because he definitely just bolted with that figurine.

Oh well, you think, slinging your bow over your shoulder and jogging back out on the street. At least you’ve got them fighting with the good guys. You’re gonna count that as a win.

  
-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna see if I can get part 4 done tonight, but it's two AM and I'm tired. The next chapter has dinosaurs and hurt/comfort, so we'll see if that's enough motivation.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](orange-yarn.tumblr.com).


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is also a little longer, and also WARNING: for blood, violence, and dinosaurs. I'm incapable of writing anything without at least some hurt/comfort.

 

**four**

 

-+-

 

The second call comes barely a month later. You should have said “No,” the second Steve said, “Savage Lands,” but you didn’t. You decided to be a team player, and this is your reward. Of course you’d get stuck running recon, and stumble your way right into, and barely back out of, an ambush. Of course you’d get paired up with Pietro Maximoff.

Of course he’d get himself _eaten by a dinosaur_.

“I swear to God,” you mutter, pressing the heel of your hand into the deepest puncture wound, just above Pietro’s hip, “if you die I’m leaving you here for the compies.”

The only answer you get from Pietro is a low groan as you dig your hands in harder. And okay, maybe the raptor didn’t _technically_ eat him, but still, she got him pretty good. There are a dozen tears and punctures, ranging across his midsection, and you haven’t even flipped him over to see the damage on his back. She would have killed him, if you hadn’t caught her with an exploding arrow. Her pack bolted when she went up, but you’re sure they’ll be back. You don’t want to think about it.

“Hey.” You bring one hand up to shake Pietro’s shoulder. You’ve watched this kid bleed out once before, and that was exactly one times too many. You’re not about to do that again. “Open your eyes.”

The seconds drag by, agonizingly slow, before Pietro finally blinks his eyes back open. His skin is grey and his mouth is taut and his blood is hot and slick on your hands, but his eyes are open and mostly tracking you. “There you go,” you encourage, and you can see his throat working, and he really better not die again. “What, now you decide to shut up?” you barb, and he scowls. It’s a good sign. “Keep talking.”

Several more long seconds pass in silence, while Pietro struggles for a breath. It’s low and ragged, but seems to steady him, and he rasps, “I’m fine. Wanda is very upset,” he makes a strangled sound that might have been a laugh, and gestures to his own head. You honestly don’t want to know what it sounds like in there right now. “But I am fine.” He coughs, and you can see blood on his lips.

“Whatever, liar.” You apply more pressure, and he groans again. “Talk.”

Pietro huffs out a breath, still scowling, and says, “Do you remember when you all had to give up technology?”

You could get up. You could walk away and leave this little punk to bleed all over the jungle, because you are so not going to sit here and talk about _Avengers Assemble_ , especially not now.  “I take it back. Shut up.”

“You said I had to stay awake,” Pietro argues, petulant. “Tony brought you out here then, too, did he not?” he continues, completely ignoring the way your eyes are probably bulging out of your skull.

The last thing you want to do is argue with him about cartoons, but most of the kid’s blood is on the outside by now, and you can feel the way his skin’s going cold. If this is what it takes to keep him conscious, then fine. Fine. You’ll argue about cartoons, in the middle of the jungle, and either you’ll keep him awake until his sister can get out here and deal with him, or until the dinosaurs come back and eat you both. You’re not picky.

“Okay, so, first of all, _that never happened_ ,” you manage to say, once you’ve finally convinced yourself that no, you are not going to feed the rest of Pietro to the T-Rex, no matter how annoying he is. “It was a fake thing on a fake show. It’s not real.”

“But some things, they did happen,” he argues, shifting on the ground until you glare at him, and he falls still. “The Captain said Thor really did fight the Midgard Serpent.”

“That was one time,” you protest, but already you don’t like where this is going. “So, maybe some of it happened. But that’s all exaggerated, which means it’s still fake.”

“I knew it, you--” Pietro breaks off, screwing his eyes shut tight as his muscles spasm, and not quite choking back a breathy moan. You’d feel bad for him, if you weren’t so busy trying to keep him alive.

“Eyes open,” you order, your voice firm. “Pietro!” He jumps when you shout, eyes snapping open and trying to focus on you. “Hey," you blurt, and you regret the words before they even come out of your mouth, "Did you see the one where Steve pretends he doesn’t know how a coffee machine works? Classic.” Hopefully he never remembers any of this, so he can’t come back and make fun of you for it later.

“Super Adaptoid,” Pietro says, rolling his eyes. You think he’s going for indignant, but he starts coughing halfway through, and your own heart clenches, because the outlook is getting bleaker by the second. “I have seen them all, remember?”

“Yeah, well.” If you had a free hand, you’d pat him on the shoulder. “I’m not sure I’d go around bragging about that one, buddy.” Pietro glares again, weaker this time, but you’ll take what you can get. “Man, that Justin Hammer character is a piece of work,” you try, and he perks up at that. “He’s even worse in person. You met him yet?”

Seven minutes later, Pietro finally loses consciousness, but he’s still breathing when Wanda finally finds you, three minutes after that. She can’t heal him, but she can keep him alive, that much you know. Iron Man and Vision are right behind her, and between the two of them, they manage to get him back on the jet.

You’re drained, and you’re pretty sure you’ll pass out the second you the hit the bench. Instead, you sit up ramrod straight the entire time, watching from across the hold as Wanda strokes her brother’s hair, humming a song you’ve never heard before. You don’t even close your eyes once the entire trip back home.

 

  
-+-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go! I'll finish it in the morning, because now it's 4AM and I'm REALLY tired.
> 
> If you also like dinosaurs and/or hurt/comfort you should come hang out on [tumblr](orange-yarn.tumblr.com).


	5. five

**five**

-+-

The door is propped open, and light’s pouring in from the hallway, but Natasha knocks anyway, peeking her head inside. She leans in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, and watches you for a long moment, assessing, and probably judging. Two days ago she’d kicked you out of the hospital wing, on account of you’d been camping out in the hallway outside Pietro’s room, and allegedly terrorizing the med staff. She’d ordered you to get cleaned up, and get some sleep. You still haven’t done either. You have called your wife, though, to let her know you'd be back as soon as you could. That has to count for something.

“Your kid’s awake,” she finally says, and you grind the heels of your hands against your eyelids, pressing down until you see starbursts. The mattress you’re laying on is stiff, and too new. Steve said they’d kept the room just for you -- right down the hall from the Maximoffs. Go figure. “I heard he’s asking for you.”

“They’re not my kids,” you mutter, but it doesn’t sound very convincing, not even to you. “I literally cannot stand that guy.”

“That’s cute,” Natasha quips. You flip her off, eyes still clamped tightly shut, but she doesn’t take the bait. “Go talk to him,” she says, rapping her knuckles on the doorframe. “But take a shower first, Barton, I can smell you from over here.”

“Love you too,” you call after her, as her footsteps echo down the hallway. You count backwards from thirty before pushing yourself up off the bed.

Ten minutes later you’re slinking into the hospital room, dripping water all over the bright-white tiles. Piero’s in bed, propped up against a small mountain of pillows, and Wanda’s sitting cross-legged in an armchair beside him, her fingers linked through his. Pietro’s expression is unreadable, but Wanda smiles serenely.

“We were just now talking about you,” Wanda says, and Pietro hmms in agreement. “Pietro was hoping you would come to visit.”

“Was not,” Pietro mumbles, trying to fold his arms across his chest, but giving up with a wince when it pulls at his stitches. Wanda only shushes him, getting to her feet and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Be good,” she bids him, and he rolls his eyes. She pauses on her way out, and lays a gentle hand on your arm. “You too,” she says, and you open your mouth to argue, but think better of it. She smiles, and pats your arm before slipping out into the hall, letting the door click shut behind her.

There’s a long, awkward moment of silence. Pietro shifts uncomfortably in the bed, looks you up and down, and remarks, “You look awful.”

“Yeah, well, I look better than you do,” you say with a shrug, eyeing him critically. You like like you haven't slept in two days and only just now showered. The kid looks like a ghost. His skin is grey and clammy, stark white bandages and bright blue eyes standing out in vivid contrast. His breathing sounds better, but his eyes look dazed. It’s a battle to find painkillers his system won’t burn right through, so you figure he’s pretty thoroughly doped up.

You don’t ask how he’s feeling, because that’s pretty obvious, but you do ask, “How long are they keeping you for?”

“Indefinitely,” Pietro says dejectedly, and you nod. That explains why he’s so grumpy, at least.

“Maybe next time don’t get eaten by a dinosaur,” you suggest. Pietro curls his lips and glares at you, but you ignore him, sizing up Wanda’s armchair. It looks comfortable, but also like you’d sink about a foot into the cushions. You decide to pass. “Anyway. I just wanted to give you this.”

You drop an iPad into Pietro’s lap, being careful to avoid his approximately four million stitches. He blinks, then picks it up. “This is mine,” he says, slowly, like maybe you don’t understand.

“Of course it’s yours,” you say, and then, “You know what, hand it here.” You swipe it back from Pietro, and wow the drugs must _really_ be dulling his senses, if you could get away with that, and pull up the videos before handing it back to him. “I bought the second season of your stupid _Avengers Assemble_ show on iTunes,” you explain. “So you don’t have to wait for Netflix, or whatever.”

“You did?” Pietro asks, and there is something genuine in his eyes for about three seconds before he looks at the screen and complains, “In standard definition? Really, Barton?”

“This is why I don’t like you,” you tell him, scrubbing a hand over your eyes. You hope Cooper and Lila and Nate turn out better than this.

“The high definition, it does not cost that much more,” Pietro argues, and you breathe in deep through your nose, and out through your mouth, and you do not fantasize about dropping him back off in the Savage Lands for the raptors finish off. “But this will do, I suppose.”

He’s not even looking up at you, he’s too busy flipping through the episodes, hands moving too fast for your eyes to track. You can tell he actually is excited, even if he’s being a brat about it. You take a step back toward the door, hoping to make a hasty retreat while he’s distracted, because you can’t think of anything else to say that isn’t awkward or honest.

“Barton.” Your hand’s already on the doorknob, but you turn back to face him. There’s a troubled look on his face, like maybe he’s going to say something nice, or actually thank you, and he doesn’t quite know how. Instead, he opens his mouth and asks, “Now that Wanda and I are Avengers, do you think they might put us on the show?”

“I’m leaving now,” you tell him, twisting the doorknob. “Get some sleep, kid.”

“I will do my own voice,” Pietro calls, as you step into the hallway. “I have many ideas for the third season!”

He’s still talking as you slam the door shut. Wanda’s been waiting for you, standing in the hallway just outside, her red shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and a small smile on her lips.

“He is very serious,” she tells you, and you feel for her, you really do. Nearly twenty years with that guy. If it was you, the two of you would have killed each other by now. “And you know," she adds thoughtfully, "not all of his story ideas are so bad.”

“Yeah, well.” You sigh, and hate yourself for even thinking about this, but you say it anyway. “The worst part is we can probably make that happen. Tony’s like, stupid rich. I’m sure he knows somebody at Disney.”

Wanda’s quiet laugh follows you all the way down the hall.

-+-

**end**

**-+-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I did it! I actually finished this silly thing over the weekend, like I'd hoped for. Hopefully I wasn't the only one who enjoyed this. It was extremely fun to write.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'll go back and finish "no grave can hold my body down," but I've been in a rut and needed to write something. Hopefully this helped.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please come say hello on [tumblr](orange-yarn.tumblr.com).


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